Middle Age

I sit my voluptuous, bulbous ass on the rack.
The hot pink light-weight to my right is always getting felt up.  
Same with the turquoise hussy on my left.
I presume it’s their tight holes,
And the gloss they always wear.
Such sluts.
But, give me a break.
I’m always up for a good spin.
So what if I’ve got a few dents and dings
And my name’s worn off my chest,
My holes can still handle anything.
Just looking for the right guy, I guess.
I keep getting picked up by every hairy Tom and Dick over 275lbs,
With stubby, fat nubs that reek of cigars and last night’s pizza.
I suppose it’s something.
The grease does always lube me up nicely.
But, c’est la vie. 

The life of a 45-year old, 
16 lb grey bowling ball.

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